Sleeping Sun
by PoisonousAngel
Summary: Talia al Ghul is gone, and after Bane dies, the League of Shadows has no heir. Coming face to face with his humanity after the revolution, Bane decides that a blood heir is what he wants for his legacy. He wants to have a child, but first he needs to find the perfect woman to give him one. He's found her... Now he just has to convince her. Bane/OC
1. The Fire We Make

_**Part One: The Mercenary **_

**Chapter 1**

**The Fire We Make**

_What I want, more than anything, is a heartbeat. _

_I don't think anyone could understand. I don't think anyone really knows what it's like not to have one, although I'm not quite sure. We want what we don't have. We reach for the unreachable. Every human being has one. So how could anyone desire it? _

_Most people take it for granted. Most people don't even feel or are aware of that soft thump that is as everyday an occurrence as waking up in the morning. It's almost nothing, something that should happen simply because that's how a human body works. They don't understand how important it is. They can't comprehend that there is nothing, absolutely nothing, keeping a heart beating. The body is made to heal itself, but is a body really able to function by itself? A marvelous mystery. How precious it is to have. How wonderful. And it's my dream. _

_It's silly, really. Not enough people place their hand on their chest and feel the gentle pound. Feel it, and appreciate it. Only when the beat is threatened do people see their lives flash before their eyes and wish they had done things a little differently. The heart is about to stop, and a man could think about that special woman he never got to kiss. A mother could think of a million things she wished she'd said to her child. A baby could think of the life they never got the chance to live. Lost loves, lost desires, forgotten dreams. It all comes back right before that final beat. And then there is nothing but silence. A silent heart. _

_I wish I could have a heartbeat if only to feel it stop. _

_His heart stopped once. Maybe not literally, but the impact was just as great as reality. Before he met her. Before he met me. His heart stopped when his first love before any of us almost faded away and became just as still as a dead organ. Maybe I could have felt it. Maybe that was when I became fully aware of him. In that moment I could see his face, that very quick, very painful instant as he rushed the evils who tried to harm the blossoming innocence. And perhaps I've been with him ever since that moment. I want to reach out and feel his heartbeat. I know that it would be the greatest one of all. I can watch him sleep and wonder when the day will come when he'll finally think of me. I can watch him do the things he does, and wonder if one day he will stop when he looks at my face and feels my life running through his own veins. I watch him now. I want to feel his heart. So precious. So taken for granted. _

_I can see his face but he doesn't know mine. I can hear her soothing voice but I'm not even a passing thought in her head. And yet I love them. I pine for them. Where there is passion there is creation. Where there is passion, a life is formed. _

_All I want is a heartbeat. _

_But right now, I don't have one. _

* * *

Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

That's what they say. That's the famous line. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. Someone once right in the head has now become so intoxicated by their own supremacy that everything goes very wrong. Goes right down multiple roads. The road inconvenience is first. Minor problems that can easily be rectified, but what follows is the dread of rising numbers that sparks the paranoia. The next road is failure. Everything is lost, dead and gone. The crown of control has fallen at your feet, right on top of the footsteps of your fleeing soldiers. The next road is what destroys the king, ending the corruption. The road straight to madness.

Inconvenience, failure, madness. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Bane had absolute power. And he was far from being corrupted by it.

Gotham City was his. The most dangerous, most famous city in the world was his home, his land. The American military did what he asked of them, staying right at the fine line of freedom and total destruction. Maybe some soldiers had tried to sneak in during his months of leadership, but for the most part the cavalry stayed right where he needed them to stay. Like a nervous parent waiting for their children to return to them after a long separation. The citizens were rowdy, but he expected that. He would _rather_ them be rowdy so that he could lend the firm hand of discipline. Everything was perfect. Everything was according to the plan.

A nuclear wasteland would become his destiny.

Power would not corrupt him because the time it would take didn't exist. There was a deadline. There was a countdown. There was a trigger.

Perhaps the trigger was his favorite part.

Bane ruled Gotham City. He liked the demands of his time and energy and mind. He liked the steps it had taken to get this way. He'd enjoyed the hunt for the Bat, the media attention, the minor problems that were _not_ seen as inconveniences. He was a king.

Unbeknownst to the world was the knowledge that he also had a queen.

Talia al Ghul had long ago brushed away the title of princess. After the death of her father in the exact city the both of them controlled together, her coronation to Demon Head, to _queen_, had propelled her to greatness. Bane had been by her side ever since she could remember, even after his excommunication because she had left with him, and it had gone without words that if she were to become the queen, then his rightful place would be as king. Her father, who only after his death would she finally honor with this one task, wouldn't care for the facts.

But Bane was meant for greatness. Ra's al Ghul had known it, even as he'd despised. And Talia had given it to him without question.

Only after complete success, after their rule of a nation, would they finally rest in peace together.

They would destroy Gotham. And then would bathe in the ashes right before they submitted to it.

The trigger was his favorite part.

After Bane had taken Gotham over completely, and after the unfortunate fiery death of the mayor, Bane had commandeered his home for himself, which was conveniently not too far from City Hall where Talia had to spend most of her time due to the façade she had to keep up. Bane had never cared for luxury, had never had any need for it after most of his life roughing it with the rest of his mercenaries. But because he _was _close to her, it was the only reason why he'd taken such a lavish penthouse apartment. The proximity made it easy for him to attend Dr. Crane's court, to keep an eye on Talia and the developing uprisings people thought he wasn't aware of. But it also made it easy for his men to retrieve Talia, who would no doubt cause a little scene of restraint because she was a perfect actress, so that she could stay with him for a few hours before duty would call and separate them again.

It was where they were now, relaxing for once because relaxation was found in only one way for them, high in the sky in the apartment he would stay in just for her.

The city was tearing itself apart below them. It made for a wonderful view.

Talia, fresh from the shower she'd taken to wash her grimy hair because she was technically a prisoner, stood at the window and watched the city with her arms crossed over her chest and a long silk robe wrapped around her clean body. She wouldn't have much longer here, time to spend in comfort with clean water, delicious food, and the company she'd always kept before she would be thrown back into the slums to cry and wish like the rest of them. But certain luxuries were always nothing but a simple pleasure. And she had learned long ago to enjoy them during the time given.

Even though time was coming close to an end.

Bane watched the sky outside the big window she was standing near, sitting on the end of the king-sized bed inside the former mayor's lavish bedroom. The clouds had consumed the sky of winter, casting everything in a gloomy, gray storm. It had begun to snow the night before, sending everything to freezing temperatures that had Talia sighing deeply inside the shower as she'd let the hot water beat on her skin. Perhaps she had not found a place by the man-made fires inside City Hall at night, so Bane was happy to give her that time in warmth. Watching her now, he breathed into the mask and tasted the bitter essence of his painkillers.

Talia smiled softly. "I wish you wouldn't stare at me too much. I must look a wreck every time you come fetch me."

"Your face is tolerable."

Holding the smile, she shook her head at him. "I could always count on you for pretty words, my friend."

A lifetime together. A very long, very hard lifetime that couldn't be changed, and wouldn't. A beginning inside prison, where he had kept her safe and she had given him a purpose. A middle with the League of Shadows, where they had become something greater than mere humans. And an ending as rulers, where they would die in the glorious fire with the twelve million rotting souls. They would have immortality. They would forever be known for their actions here, in the cursed city that destroyed lives. A fine hour. A peaceful end. They had risen together. They would die together, too.

Talia turned and approached him, her attention to the city long forgotten so she could give it to him instead. "Tell me of your hours. Tell me everything. I want to know what you are up to when you must leave me with the peasants."

"Everything is how I want it. There is not too much obedience or disobedience. It is like a school. The behaved children are ignored. The bothersome children are disciplined."

Standing in front of him now, she smiled again. "Then it is exactly how you like it."

"It is," he murmured, wondering which of his bothersome children he would get to punish after this time with her. "Many assume I am the one with the detonator. It pleases me when they find out otherwise after their most anticipated ambushes. They die with puzzlement."

"That is not a kind way to die," she drawled, sitting next to him on the bed. "And your health? Are you eating enough?"

"Why do you worry about me? I know how to take care of myself."

She patted his thigh affectionately. "We have always taken care of each other, precious Bane."

Many thought differently. Many didn't even believe the truth when it was told to them. But the truth was, there was no romantic relationship between Bane and Talia. Of course they loved each other. Of course he would follow her to the ends of the earth and of course she would always be there to make sure Bane had the best care, the greatest authority one could have. But intimacy did not come at a physical level. Their love was pure. They loved each other as much as someone could love another person who one could not do without. Surely no one could love someone as much as Bane loved Talia. Surely no parent could love their own child as much as Talia loved Bane.

But even though romance with each other was out of the equation, neither of them could say they had never tried it without telling a lie.

One night long ago there had been intimacy between them. One night long ago there had been sex.

And because their love _was_ pure, it had never happened again.

"You are lonely," she murmured, looking at his face, a face she had not seen uncovered since that last day in the pit. "I can see it."

"Hardly. There is too much work to be done. And no time to waste on pleasure."

"Everyone needs pleasure," she countered, her mind already at work. And a sick happiness that she had used Bruce Wayne for her own before he was sentenced to hell sizzling inside. "Must we have this conversation every time I see your need? Have I not always provided you with the perfect woman to take your comfort from? You need someone to take care of you when I cannot be with you."

Talia had strived to give Bane everything, just as he'd done the same with her. But with the exception of that one night, she could not give Bane the pleasures a woman could give a man. And because he was never interested enough in one to find use for himself, Talia had always found a willing woman to satisfy him, one who would do the job and walk away as soon as he was done with her. The time in between women for Bane was long. Only she could tell when his need was rising. She could see it now, in his tired and fierce eyes.

"The end is near, the hours numbered. I do not wish to spend my final weeks with any other woman except you."

She scoffed, crossing her legs delicately. Her expression of concern for Bane eased away, and hatred took its place. "That is impossible. I must stay with _them_. It is much harder for me to sneak off to see you, what with all these damn _worrisome_ men around me. They coo over me as if I were a baby."

He smiled underneath the mask, the straps pulling around the skin of his face. "And little do they know that you could destroy every last one of them in hand to hand."

She smirked. "I wish I could be given the chance. You are having all the fun." Carefully, she scooted behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders and once again marveling at the greatness of him. Maybe her father had known more than she of his power. And maybe that was also the cause for his hate. Bane's relationship with her aside, perhaps Ra's al Ghul had tried to protect his position from the man he thought a monster. "I may be confined most of the time in the slums now, but I could easily find you a woman to warm your bed. She needn't be there long."

"In this palace I'm quite sure my bed needs no warming."

She laughed, squeezing his shoulders and working the very hard and very tight muscles there. Talia was the only one allowed to touch him this way. "How I enjoy you, love. And I will miss you very much when the fire erupts. Very well then," she sighed, easing some on the pressure around certain scars on his body, knowing they were more sensitive than others. "But I will not allow you to ignore your need. I will step back and trust that you will find satisfaction in the one you choose."

Bane relaxed as Talia touched him. He had to admit that he didn't mind when she would send him someone. It was much easier to be given a willing body, do with it what he wanted and send it off, never to see again. Most people wouldn't understand that aspect of their relationship, but it was something that just always was. Bane did Talia's bidding, and she kept him well and comfortable.

They had come a very long way since the day his heart had stopped when a group of men from the pit had tried to take her.

Both of them glanced over as they heard a body carefully approaching the tall, closed door of the master bedroom. With a soft knock it was pushed open. Barsad, Bane's second in command and hawk's eye, entered with his soft footing and watchful eyes. Eyes that always seemed to be open for any sign of danger, or a possible target. He was the only one who could disturb Bane and Talia's alone time without generating annoyance, simply because the disturbance was absolutely called for. And he was the most trusted solider in the League of Shadows.

Barsad bowed slightly in apology to Talia. "Forgive me, but I have been sent some news on the various uprisings."

Continuing with her ministrations on Bane's body, Talia listened as Bane nodded for him to continue.

"Surprisingly, not every cop in the city was trapped underground. The Commissioner Gordon is still missing and has been grouping his numbers. Our weasels have provided us with information. They tell me the very few cops left unscathed gather at a certain workplace to hold meetings, and plan."

Bane kept his eyes on Barsad. "And how did these particular cops not answer the call for all units? Did they ignore it?"

"I'm not quite sure. Perhaps they could have been on holiday or some kind of leave? Either way, my sources are accurate."

Bane lifted a brow casually as Talia cracked his back with her skilled fingers. She may be the Demon Head, but it was his job to make decisions concerning such difficulties. "Accurate sources," he murmured.

"Yes, sir. Otherwise they would not be _my_ sources."

More cops, Bane mused, once again looking out the giant window to the city on the other side. The sun was setting in the west, the sky promising more cold and snow for the coming day. When it was severely cold at night, and the streets more upsetting than usual, Talia could spend a few more hours with him than normal. But this news would send her off sooner because now, he had a few more pests to squash. Barsad was right, he thought, wondering why he ever had the slightest doubt for his solider. Sources would not be sources if they were wrong. Those sources, he knew, would be dead.

Sending Barsad off with the promise that they would look into it, the second closed to door and left them alone.

"You will go," Talia said, smoothing her hands down his back. "You will go now, and dispose of the naughty police officers."

"I will retrieve you at the very next opportunity."

Smiling, she gave him a kiss on his masked cheek from behind. "Leave me now, my protector. I must take a few moments before I return to the cold to make myself look haggard. I'm afraid it would not be right for me to go back freshly clean and relaxed."

When she got up, he took her outreached hand. "I have never had to tell you to be safe."

In her eyes, the fire burned. The fire that would kill millions. "With you around I always am. Continue with your fun, my love." Lifting his hand, she kissed him there, too.

Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

But the time it would take didn't exist.

* * *

"So," Bane muttered, staring at the building in front of him in the night, the snow falling on his shoulders and his long brown coat keeping the worst of the cold at bay. "This is where Gotham's Finest retreat when they have nowhere else to go."

Barsad nodded, holding up a hand to stop the remaining soldiers at their backs. He, too, looked to the building, and was not surprised.

The structure was a little rough around the edges, two stories with blacked out windows and an antique door to keep the world outside, but the foundation it sat upon could be seen as prime real estate if the owner bothered with it. A few people here and there, ones who were not bothered by the mercenaries because they were oddly used to them and unafraid to go out at night, came in and out. Bane took notice that it was mostly men, men who would go in nervous and scatterbrained, and come out content and smirking. And with every comer and goer, the big bright light nailed to the front gleamed down on them like a glowing red ruby. The air outside smelled of perfume, booze, and something a little more scandalous.

It made Bane feel out of his element. Almost.

"Lovesick," Barsad said, reading the red light that was the business' name. "They do not like to say they are a gentleman's club to avoid certain attention. The ones who manage it like to convince themselves they are above such establishments since they serve not only alcohol, but food and other sorts of live entertainment, as well. But truly… it is a gentleman's club. Hardly anything more."

"And this is where the officers gather?"

"They assume they are safe here. Out in the open, with every other man's attention focused on the half-naked women. I have already spoken with tonight's manager. His name is Bing Simon. He has agreed to make an appearance to you."

Bane studied the building, watching the way the obnoxious red light would brighten, and then dull. Gotham's remaining cops would meet at a strip club because here, they thought they were safe from him. But even with the minor threat, Bane wondered if he wanted to waste his time in such a place.

"You will have me _wait_ here for them?"

Feeling his leader's annoyance, Barsad spoke quick. "I have no knowledge of when the police will arrive, but they will most certainly show up tonight. I considered it would be wise to wait until they were all gathered together before we ended what is left of the force."

Bane looked at Barsad. He then looked at the group of his men that had come along with him. Perhaps there would be many positives to staying. Bane could kill the rest of the police and their operations against him and Talia, and by the looks of their faces, he could see that his men wanted to go inside, as well. Holding a city hostage hardly came with personal time, and their bodies seemed to be itching to get in and simply see.

Lovesick was not the kind of place where Bane would spend his time. Normally, he would not give such places a passing thought.

He went in anyway.

**A/N: And here we are yet again. Only this time, we'll be going in a slightly different direction. As you can see, I've changed Bane and Talia's relationship from what it was in **_**Mercenary.**__**Sleeping Sun **_**will be very different from the others. Not to mention our new leading lady, who will be making her first appearance in the next chapter. I hope you're all as excited as I am for this new adventure, and I can't tell you how much I've missed you. Tell me what you think, darlings. And, as always, trust me. **


	2. There Is Nothing Can Console Me

_**Part One: The Mercenary**_

**Chapter 2**

**There Is Nothing Can Console Me**

Men liked it here. And regardless of its weathered appearance from the outside, the inside of the club was immaculate. Set in the dim glow of scented candles and soft deep lighting, shiny wood tables scattered the area, wiped down to perfection to keep menus from sticking and glasses from marring with coasters. The floor was clean and almost sparkling from its pearl shade, and the matching sofas in various private areas had not one ugly mark upon them. The walls were painted or possibly even draped with a deep violet color, meshing well with the pearl accessories. Men came here to relax, whether it was from a stressful day's work or just an escape from life. They came here to feel important, to feel on top of the world, because that was how they would be treated when signing their name on the credit receipt. They left their wives at home, their girlfriends who could not give them this type of entertainment. The men here were sick of them, sick of life, sick of work. Sick of love.

_Lovesick. _

Bane looked around, and decided that it was much nicer than he'd assumed.

The men who came here, he could see now, were men of wealth and importance, traits that were absolutely required to afford the bill. They ate, they drank, they watched. A perfect setting, one that was not dirty or rundown or unbearable. The music was soft, yet as he ventured further in it became more powerful, vibrating underneath his boots as his mask breathed in the soothing aroma of relaxation and gratification. It seemed classy, in a way.

Bane also decided that the women were much more different than those of a regular strip club.

They were beautiful, simple as that, sashaying around in tasteful lingerie in an assortment of colors. There were no illegal teenagers or dried up cocaine addicts to please the public here. Here, there were _women_, with all different colors of hair, eyes, and skin, smiling and happy, content to satisfy the men in ways they didn't think were possible. Some danced privately, others would rub backs or play with hair, and some women would even simply sit with the men, just to talk, if that's what they wanted. Private shows, where the woman selected would remove some of her clothing, were sealed off from the rest of the guests by curtains located throughout the club. Nothing was out of place. Nothing was cheap or low class or foul.

Bane could almost be impressed.

Behind him, he could see his men staring, their eyes longing to drop their soldier's pose and simply be. But before he made any kind of decision, his eyes quickly scanned the area a second time, searching for any sign of police or other law enforcement. Lovesick may have surprised him with its immaculate setting, but there was still a job to do. There was still a revolution to lead.

"Barsad," he said simply.

"That man over there," Barsad answered, gesturing to the body approaching them earnestly. "He will assist us."

Bing Simon, manager of Lovesick, scurried over with a giant smile. A short, aging man, he neared them in a dress suit, fiddling with the tie the same deep violet as the walls around his neck nervously. His salt and pepper hair was slicked back, and his long nose perched a pair of glasses that caught the light of the candles. With a beard the same color as his hair, it gave him a dignified appearance that had to be kept up to run such a place. Only the best were hired at Lovesick.

"Hello, sir. I'm so sorry I didn't meet you at the door. Bing Simon, sir. And let me just say that I apologize for any illegal activity that has been conducted here. We would never want to go against your rules, just as we weren't aware of what was left of the police coming here secretly."

The man was practically shaking, Bane could see. Shaking in fear of him, and the possibility that his place of work would be marred in some way from whatever would happen here tonight. He was quick to play the blame game, and quick to please.

He figured those traits would get him out of here a lot quicker.

"I will give you generosity tonight, Mr. Simon. You know the faces of the police?"

Simon nodded vigorously. "Of course, of course. I couldn't know if those men were actual law enforcement, but when your man here contacted me, certain faces did come to mind."

"Good. Then we shall wait here until they arrive. I want to be told as soon as they walk through the door. Assist me tonight, and perhaps you will walk away happy from your place of work."

Simon swallowed some, instinctively reaching for his tie again. He liked to keep a smooth business. He also liked to stay alive, and in good company. If Bane, the one who kept them all from the rest of the world, wanted certain men on a platter, then it was only his rightful place to offer it to him. Also, his ever turning business man mind thought, it would be wonderful for Lovesick if Bane and his crew were seen here. He wasn't going to allow them to walk away unsatisfied in any area. "You can expect my full cooperation, sir. And please allow me to be your personal host. I will make sure you're all comfortable."

Bane held up a hand. "We only want to be kept unseen. You do not have to dote upon us."

He wrung his hands. Simon looked behind Bane, at the small number of army men ready to kill each and every one of them if their leader ordered it so. It would be hard to keep them all hidden. But there was always a solution. "Of course, sir. Please, follow me."

Bane split up his men, scattered them around so there would be no place to run when the police finally walked through the door. Only a few of the guests gave them glances, but most of them stayed right where they were. Seeing mercenaries walk the streets was common nowadays, and as long as everyone was doing what they were supposed to be doing in their individual classes, then they would stay alive. The women, stunning as they were, gave them no negative attention at all. They smiled at the group, and then went back to whatever job that needed their attention. Professional and gorgeous, they handled the threat of danger and death without batting one beautiful eye. After his men were stationed, including Barsad who would be the eyes from higher up, Bane followed Simon so that he wouldn't be out in the open.

"There's a difference between a strip club and a gentlemen's club," Simon explained, feeling the need to be host even though it wasn't called for. It was obviously in his nature anyway. "Our building is kept impeccably clean, with top of the line machines and products. No one would ever have to experience a sticky floor here. On busy nights, we also offer a valet service. Our guests can rest assured knowing that their valuables and their well-being is safe with the help of our impressive security. Of course we would need it to stay in business, what with all the looters going around now." Simon led Bane to a far corner, reaching for a long pearly curtain and drawing it aside. "Only those who can afford the cover charge are allowed here. Another key difference is the women. We look for attractive, classy ladies who will conduct business as professionally as possible while leaving the guest satisfied on every level that is offered here." Simon gestured to the sofa in the same pearly white. "No one will be able to see you here, sir. May I bring you anything?" He instantly regretted the offer as his eyes landed on the mask. Surely that wasn't a slip-up?

"No," Bane answered, sitting down so the attention on him would focus somewhere else.

"If you happen to change your mind I can—"

"You are very good at your job, Mr. Simon. Please leave."

Simon obeyed, letting the curtain fall and leaving Bane alone. If the mercenary would have allowed him, he could have tended to Bane and made sure that he felt as content as possible in the lap of luxury. But he didn't seem to want anything, which made Simon feel itchy and craving the need to satisfy that had landed him this cozy job in the first place. With hospitality as his career, he simply couldn't leave someone as important and powerful as Bane with nothing. It just wasn't done in his world, in his club. Bane didn't want anything.

But maybe he didn't want anything because he didn't know what could be offered. With his mind at work, Bing Simon walked away and reached into his coat pocket for his private radio to relay a message.

It was actually nice to sit down by himself, Bane thought, leaning against the couch but still braced for his confrontation with the remaining officers. When he wasn't running Gotham, destroying the uprisings, watching the military, punishing the elite, and attending court, he was usually with Talia. And when he wasn't with Talia he was on the streets, ready to do it all over again until the day the triggerman was revealed. Until the day the end would come. But to be by himself now, to sit here in the dim light with music pumping through speakers and the soft giggling of the women working surrounding him, it was enough to help him ease down.

It took a lot to hold a city hostage. Physically and emotionally, it could wear a man down.

Perhaps it was good that he wasn't an ordinary man.

Talia trusted him to help her. She trusted him with so many things, with doubt so far from her mind that it never got a chance to enter her thoughts in the first place. She had always been like that with him, ever since she'd been a child and had been catapulted into his care after the death of her mother. It was strange now to think of their life together, now that life was slowly coming to an end. It seemed that they had always been in each other's sights, and life before the other was nonexistent. Talia had used her birthright to advance him, because she'd known what he would become even without her help. And without him, she would most certainly have died a very long time ago.

What would happen to the League after Talia died? he thought, his mind drifting some. Surely she had a plan that would be set into motion after her demise. Surely she had all these areas covered. But if they were covered, wouldn't she have mentioned it to him? Talia had never spoken to him about the future of their group. For the League of Shadows to live on there always had to be an heir, ready to take on the crown of Demon Head and continue the work of cleansing the world.

Who would take the League of Shadows after Gotham City's day of reckoning?

Talia was a smart woman, Bane told himself, barely noticing the dimming of the lights. Talia would not hatch this scheme without securing all areas. She knew what she was doing, and if she could trust him with every ounce of her being, then perhaps he should give her that same trust. Someone would take the League of Shadows after they were gone. And if it was Talia's choice, then maybe the League would end with them. It seemed right. It seemed like the best possible way.

It seemed so final.

The music suddenly changed and seemed much closer to him than before. Bane snapped out of his thoughts and closely paid attention as the soft hums from before morphed into something else entirely. It sounded like the musical strums of violins, something haunting and seductive, with a gentle beat and the very faint recording of a woman sighing and softly moaning with an alluring voice. Along with that enchanting melody were the smooth sounds of waves crashing, water rippling as it moved and the wind whispering above it. The violins played on in the dim light, so lovely and divine.

So eerie.

Bane was in a small curtained off private room, but before him, where the main stage that would catwalk off to the other private rooms started to light up, he wondered if this was for the entire club… or if this was only for him.

And while remembering Mr. Simon's need to please, he came to the conclusion that even though he'd declined, Bane was going to be given a little taste at what Lovesick had to offer.

The main stage was a few feet from the curtain that kept him hidden, but the pearly color of that curtain and the lighting could give him a view at what was happening beyond it. The catwalk that would lead to his curtain glowed, and the private speakers where he sat were the cause of the haunting melody playing around him. He heard a whistle from outside the curtain, obviously another man who wanted to see the goods that would be someone else's entertainment for the night. And when he focused more clearly beyond the curtain, he could make out a body. A body that was nothing but a black silhouette.

A body that was now slowly approaching him.

Bane could see her dancing as she neared the curtain, for surely it was a woman from the sights he could make out. He could see the curves of her body with every direction she turned, every angle she danced. The black shadow swayed to the haunting music, the long hair around her twirling with her body like a cape. With every move she grew closer, becoming a larger shadow as she approached, gliding down the catwalk like a howling wind, like a smooth wave of warm water. His focused eyes watched her, this mystery woman who was just a shape, just an enticing image who one moment was all the way down the catwalk and then suddenly right outside the curtain that separated them. The music pumped on, otherworldly sounds that triggered her, that moved her. He watched as the black shadow raised her hands, took the ends of the curtain to pull them apart so that he could finally see.

And the music… fit her well.

Long hair fell to her waist, hair the color of auburn and so wavy that it looked like a raging ocean. Behind her the entire club seemed to glow in a shining yellow, shimmering through the pearly curtain and through her limbs. Bane stared up at her face, a face that was smiling down at him from the end of the catwalk that would be their own personal stage after she closed the curtain behind her. He couldn't stop himself as his eyes drifted down her body, a body that seemed to be shimmering just as much as the light behind her. The sparkling lingerie hugged her body like a glove, a luscious body that dipped, curved, and swelled in every area desirable. As she closed the curtain behind her back for privacy, his eyes wandered back up to her face, a round face that held a pair of smiling blue eyes that glowed along with everything else on and around her. Her mouth was wide, her neck was long, her hair whispered along the curvature of her hips. The violins continued to play, the woman on the recording continued to call out to him, and the waves crashed.

Bane stared up at her, and decided that this woman before him now was a siren.

She stared right into his eyes, confident and alluring, her mouth lifting into a half grin as if she knew the secrets of the world, and was about to tell them all to him. The golden lingerie on her body from the swell of her breasts to the toes of her bare feet winked at him, and with a very soft change of light he could see that the lace and bindings of her outfit was not the only thing shimmering. Her skin not covered by the impressive underwear was just as golden, sun kissed and only adding to the realization of what she could truly be. A siren lounging on the rocks, bathing in the rays of the sun and luring men to their doom. And as if reading his mind, the woman tossed her auburn hair back and sunk down to her knees on the mini stage, going further still as she dropped her stomach to the stage floor. Lifting her feet up in the air behind her, the sparkles on her feet and ankles caught the light dramatically as she waved them back and forth, mimicking the look of a mermaid moving her tail. Bane tilted his head to the side some as he watched her, as the music intertwined the movements of her swaying feet with the soft sighing of the recording right behind him.

_Come to me…_

Still smiling at him, her wide mouth parted some, her arms moving to turn herself on her stomach to face him head on. Her legs continued to flap like a mermaid's tail, the act that was hers and hers alone. And holding the smile, holding the bright shine of her blue eyes, she hardly showed any fear of him as her voice drifted to him like seduction.

"Would you like me to sing for you?"

* * *

Tonight wasn't supposed to have been interesting. In actuality, tonight should have been just a routine, slow night at work with all the regulars on a weekday evening who would show up with their loneliness and their fat wallets. A night when she would walk around and talk to those lonely regulars dressed in some fancy little outfit that would catch the light to spark their attention, maybe dance a little to help with the boredom a slow night would bring. Auntie, the older woman who would dress all the dancers for the evening and assist them with their hair and makeup, didn't put much effort into their appearances on the slow nights. She would rather smoke in the back than doll up her girlies for those who would show up every weekday like the milkman.

And when Auntie got a radio call from Bing Simon telling her that a certain someone had shown up and would need to be entertained for a bit, she'd snatched her arm and forced her into sparkling gold lingerie right before pushing her onto the stage. It was supposed to be a regular, slow night.

But Bane had entered the club, and then suddenly it was anything but.

She knew why she'd been chosen to entertain Bane, of course. She knew why Auntie had grabbed _her_ arm instead of any of the others. It wasn't that she could beat out the seasoned blondes or the flexible brunettes or the extremely charming redheads. She'd been chosen simply for being herself. She was the only one Auntie knew who wouldn't decline or cower in fear of what Gotham's terrorist could do to them, especially after witnessing something gruesome like breaking the neck of some poor scientist on national television. When Auntie had told her of the situation, that Bane was here and would need entertainment, she was the only one in the entire club who would simply shrug and pull on her stockings.

She was chosen because she was always herself. And perhaps that was why she was always getting into trouble.

Trouble like smiling down at a very large mercenary leader while wearing nothing but sparkling gold lingerie.

_Shrug. _

The music around them in the private area lessened, turning down now that her entrance was over and done with. But the violins played on, her signature music that would thrust men into a place where she was the one who called out to them, and they would always obey. Cheesy, she figured, but she didn't mind the music that had been chosen for her when she'd started working here. What was even more important was that she didn't think her guest minded it either.

Bane stared at the woman while blinking slowly, a woman that was here even though he didn't want her to be. He could have been annoyed. And somewhere inside he was, considering that he was here to keep the law of the land in place and not wasting time on beautiful women who thought they could fog his mind. But as he continued to look at her, he figured that maybe it hadn't been the worst idea in the first place.

Everyone needs pleasure, Talia had told him.

The woman drew her brows together while continuing to flap her legs almost playfully. "Is the music too loud still?" she asked him, eyeing the mask. "Can you hear? That thing seems pretty tight."

How interesting, Bane mused. It was very rare when he would interact with the public without causing a scene. Citizens of Gotham were either trying to kill him, run from him, or bargain hysterically with him in some way for passage out of the city or safety from the courts. Casual conversation was… odd. Especially with a female. "I can hear you just fine," his voice wheezed out, mechanical and curious. "You would sing?"

"I've got orders. The masked man gets what the masked man wants. If you wanted to hear me sing," she began, folding her hands on the stage and placing her chin on top, "then sing I shall."

He wished she would stop moving her legs. It was distracting. "Considering where we are… What other orders are you expected to obey?"

She gave him another half grin, obviously enjoying the challenge. "There are limitations, of course. I could sing, touch you where we would deem appropriate to touch, dance for you in silence. We could even just talk in this cozy private area. Tons of options. Although some options are _not_ available, in which case you'll have to mosey on somewhere else for that. But within the limitations, the choice is yours."

He considered them all. "And what about leaving me alone?"

She shook her head, her auburn hair whooshing about. "Those pesky orders again." She pushed herself up from the stage, brought her legs around and sat on the end, kicking her feet. "Look, I should be packing up to go home. I'd like to leave as much as you'd like me gone. But you're an important guy, and of course my boss won't let you leave here unsatisfied with the club. The goods are here," she told him dully, knowing she would be in trouble if she didn't please him. "And if I have to work, then we might as well use the time. You're obviously not going anywhere right this second."

Bane blinked once again at her, this very strange woman. Never in his life had a female ever spoken to him this way, a female who was not Talia. There were very few women in the League of Shadows, women who would remain unseen and would only be considered if it concerned their work. And if Talia brought him one for pleasure, there would hardly be any speaking at all. At least, not like this. This woman now was new to him. And just like the reservations he'd had with entering this place, he wondered if he should make her leave or let her stay.

Very interesting, indeed.

Everyone needs pleasure, his mind repeated. And she was…

He hated that he found his eyes drifting once again.

"I could force you to leave," he threatened lowly.

She only stared at him. After a few moments, moments he had no doubt that were spent thinking of ways to get what she wanted, she hopped off the stage and stood before him, her hair falling down her back. Slowly, and knowing he was watching every movement, she slicked a hand down her hip and drew her shoulders back, arching her body. Bane thought of sirens again.

"Do you really want to?" she asked him, tilting her head to the side curiously.

Everyone needs pleasure. He might as well enjoy the feast.

Bane didn't want to think he was making some kind of mistake.

Sensing her victory, and choosing his option for him, she hopped onto the arm of the sofa and crossed her shining legs. Studying him, she realized that he was even larger than what she'd seen on TV or heard from others on the streets. Not a day went by when she didn't hear constant conversation of Bane. And even though she thought it extremely annoying that she couldn't leave the city if she wanted to, of even more annoying was if someone else tried and she was blown up for it, she couldn't instantly hate him and avoid him like the plague now that she was called to be his lady for however long he was at Lovesick. Hating took too much out of a person. She would rather keep the energy.

_Life itself was hard enough_. Her daddy always told her that.

And plus, she was still alive. Bane hadn't killed her yet.

"What is your name?" he asked her, fighting the urge to look at the legs draped practically right next to him.

"Eve," she answered instantly, holding her body in a provocative pose because it was her job to do so. She wondered if she should have sat right next to him. One step at a time.

"That is a lovely name. But I would assume it is not your real one."

She lifted a brow. "Why would you assume that?"

"I hardly think the women here would use their given names, considering the work being done. Safety is very important."

She didn't think Bane was one for jokes, but that made her laugh some. Who was Bane to talk about safety? They were on the verge of death because of him and his gang. Not to mention the trigger was in some traitor's claws. She gave him a sideways look. Well, if they were all dead Gothamites walking, she didn't think she wanted to go as some Lovesick dancer named Eve.

"My name is Dom," she told him.

Bane nodded, folding his hands in his lap and wishing the soft violins would stop playing. "That must be short for Dominique."

She scowled ever so slightly. "I go by Dom."

Bane smiled softly underneath the mask, looking down at his folded hands.

"What the hell kind of a name is _Bane_? Your mother couldn't have named you that. Unless, you know… she hated you."

How brave she was, he thought. She was so brave that she would dare speak to him that way. But perhaps it wasn't courage that created the words. Maybe this woman, _Dominique_, was simply just careless. "I have no other name," he answered. Bane looked over slightly, at her thighs that continued to sparkle in the light. He had never spoken with a woman like her before, or had ever visited a place such as Lovesick. He didn't particularly like not knowing how he would react in certain situations. He wasn't an ordinary man.

He didn't enjoy thinking like one.

"So what's all this for, anyway? What brought you here?"

He decided to remove his eyes from Dom's body and focus ahead of himself, where the pearly curtain still shone yellow, casting shadows. "Are you not enjoying your liberation?"

She shrugged. "I've been lucky so far. I have to sneak out of here bundled up in layers when I head home, so I don't spark any kind of attention from the wrong people roaming about. But honestly, it's hardly anything I'm not already used to. This club is owned by the Maroni family, you know. We don't only have law abiding citizens stopping by."

"I'm not familiar with that name."

It had taken Sal Maroni a long time to heal from his car accident injuries, injuries he wasn't expected to walk away from, but had. And an even longer time to continue his business while in jail. But with the right people on his side, he was still able to spit out orders from behind bars. Bing Simon visited him once a week to update him on Lovesick's activities. "Sal Maroni was a modern gangster from a few years back. He knows the right people so he still makes the rules."

Maybe he should have had her dance. Or even better, sing. Conversation like this, with someone who was not Talia, could almost make him feel uncomfortable. "You are very… friendly."

"I'm in the business of being friendly, big guy."

Bane drew his brows together. More confusion. It was getting to the point of becoming annoying. How strange this woman was. "Do you enjoy your _friendly_ business?"

Another shrug. She knew most people wouldn't understand. And she didn't really care if they did or not. "It keeps things interesting. I never go beyond the limitations. But working here… dressing up in expensive outfits and dancing and getting paid well for it… I don't have that many complaints. A regular nine to five would bore the hell out of me." She looked over at him again. This was definitely the stupidest thing she'd ever done, after years of travelling and trying to live life to the fullest. She was sitting here with Bane, wearing practically nothing and trying to talk to him while hoping she didn't get a snapped neck for it. Maybe she should become a more cautious lady. Bane suddenly met her gaze, his eyes so deep and intense she could barely place the color of them. She had always wanted eyes like that, eyes that could tell another person with a simple look how much they had done and seen in life.

He thought he was in the wrong place. She thought she was talking to the wrong man.

What did it matter now, with the end looming behind like a shadow?

"I would like for you to dance," he said softly.

_The masked man gets what the masked man wants. _

Dom didn't think she would ever see Bane again. If he didn't kill her before the night was over, she doubted he would ever visit Lovesick for any other reason than the one that brought him here tonight. With a flourish of her legs she got off the arm of the sofa and stood in front of him.

Bane knew he could have forced her easily to leave. Regardless of the silly orders that had been given to her, he did as he pleased and answered to no one save for Talia. But this curious and quirky Dominique had only stayed because he had wanted for her to stay.

And because he felt slightly foolish with the way he'd acted before, he took his fill of her and watched every single inch of her body as she began to move again.

This one night, this one meeting wouldn't change anything. After tonight it would be a distant memory. Bane watched Dom as she danced, as she fluidly moved her limbs and torso as if she were made of jelly. She had a very attractive body, a body that could be one of an actual mermaid with its soft angles and tan skin. The back of her was just as lovely as the front, he saw once she turned around, moving her wavy hair over her shoulder so he could see everything. The deep line in the middle of her back ran right down to a curved bottom that met an impressive pair of golden legs. Climbing back onto the mini stage, she continued to dance for him, moving her hips sensually and touching her body that made a man want to replace her palms with his own. But Bane supposed that this type of entertainment did that to a mind.

Dom fell into a split slowly, lifting her hands into her hair and bringing it up, only to let it fall around her shoulders again. She would catch his eyes every now and then, and knew by the intensity of them that she was pleasing him. It was the only thing she was really here to do. Dom danced for Bane until he left.

Somehow, she survived it.

* * *

Auntie took a drag at her cigarette as she watched Dom hang up her lingerie in the closet where their large dressing room was. The space was big enough to house all the girls on busy nights, when fifteen or so would be getting ready at the same time and Auntie would be rushing around trying to make each and every one of them look as delicious as they could possibly be. There were couches here and there, chairs for when some of the ladies would be on break and would need to sit for a few moments to rest their aching feet. Decorated in the same violet and pearl tones, it was a calm area for once with only Dom and Auntie there, and the soothing scents of lavender to help the stresses of a high-end gentlemen's club.

"Oh hey, thanks for putting me in harm's way and shoving me out there straight into Gotham's terrorist's lap. It's nice to know I'm a valuable employee of the business."

She rolled her eyes at Dom's sarcasm, completely used to it. Auntie was a large lady, with streaks of white in her black hair and her skin dark brown from long years under the Mexican sun. She wasn't the most beautiful woman in the world, which surprised a lot of the other girls since Lovesick only hired the best of the best, and her real name was unknown to everyone except management. But she and Dom had always had a love-hate relationship. Auntie cursed Dom to hell and made her look pretty. Dom called her an old bat and always brought her flowers every couple of months.

It somehow worked for them.

"You're alive, aren't you? Besides, if I put anyone else out there they would have burst into tears." Auntie began to cough from the smoke of her cigarette. Her voice had already become nasally and her lungs were shot. Why stop now?

"And because you _don't _value me, you can hand wash these damn stockings yourself."

"You rip them anyway."

It was snowing outside tonight, and she had been kept much later than intended. After she'd stripped herself of her lingerie with Auntie's help, Dom had pulled on her _going home_ outfit of sweats and a tight gray long-sleeved shirt. She tied her auburn hair back with a rubber band after sliding her arms through her trusty khaki trench coat. There was still a revolution going on. She had to remain as uninteresting as possible so she could make it home safely. She'd heard too many stories about women simply walking home who were snatched right off the street and never seen again.

"I'm out of here. Don't choke on those things, Auntie."

"Such a smart mouth," Auntie sighed, stabbing the burning end out in her handy ashtray anyway and getting right to work on washing the dancer's pantyhose for the night.

This was the craziest night of her life, Dom decided as she began to lock up behind herself. And she had had a pretty crazy life. But what could be crazier than dancing for _Bane_? He was the man who was holding them all hostage with the threat of nuclear disaster. He was the one who was allowing those terrible courts that would condemn a man simply for ignoring those of a lesser status. Maybe it should have bothered her a whole lot more than what it had. Maybe she should have been afraid for her life.

But in the world of Dominique Cross, thoughts like those wasted too much energy and caused too much anxiety.

She liked to live in the positive. The negative was way too exhausting for her.

Dom had been born and raised in the Florida Keys, the home where she'd learned how to swim at the age of one and could maneuver a sailboat better than a grown man. Her mother had died from complications in childbirth, so she had no one but her father to teach her the ways of life. Maximilian Cross had taught her everything he knew while raising a little girl completely on his own. He'd taught her the satisfaction of hard labor, the beauties of the sea, and the truths of life. People shouldn't constantly worry about good and evil, he'd say. In the end, everyone got screwed over no matter which side they were on. All someone could do, she knew, was to try to be as happy as possible and to do whatever you wanted.

Maybe it was those very traits about her that had made her the chosen one to dance for Bane.

The Florida sun had tanned her skin. And even though she had a body to die for, her father had never taken such notice of things. He was too busy teaching her how to be a man, how to be independent and able to take care of herself in every way possible after he died. And when he had died in a boating accident, she was able to stand on her own feet and put to use all the lessons that had been taught to her.

Dom had travelled all over America, settling for Gotham City just a couple years back. She'd heard too many stories of chaos, of flying bats and laughing clowns. Of corrupt politicians and insane doctors. Gotham was never okay because Gotham always had an issue.

She loved it. It kept life interesting. And so did Lovesick.

Closing the back door behind her, Dom tied the sash of her trench coat more tightly around her waist to block out the worst of the cold. She'd grown up on the tropical beaches of the Keys, and could be shivering with the briefest gust of wind. She longed for the sun, longed for the ocean so she could swim in it. But instead, she made due with the shambles of what Gotham City had to offer.

She heard voices nearby. Faint voices. And a very deep one that she recognized.

Dom spotted the mercenaries. There was no mistaking them. A few of them crowded around Bane, who was speaking to them in some kind of language she didn't understand. They had used a separate back entrance, one that was close to the one she used every night. And from the look of his masked face, he didn't seem very happy. Dom didn't know what exactly had brought the mercenaries to Lovesick earlier, but it had obviously not worked out.

Bane lifted his eyes, and met hers.

She flinched. She didn't mean to but she did anyway. He stood silent and unmoving as another of the men spoke to him, seeming to be listening with half an ear as he stared her down. And because she didn't know what else to do, she stupidly lifted her hand in a slight wave as the men around him started to scatter.

And then suddenly, it got very loud.

What appeared to be a homeless man burst from the shadows of the alley, snow covered all along his ratty clothes as he lunged at Bane. Falling instantly to his knees, he grabbed the long brown coat Bane wore and started to shake it helplessly.

"Please, please help me. Please I can't be here anymore! Please don't make me go to court!"

Dom watched as Bane remained steady, only staring down at the man like he were a flea that needed to be flicked away. His men returned to him, grabbing the man and trying to drag him away from their leader.

"No! I need to get out of this city! They're going to kill me! They're going to _kill me_!"

The man shoved at the mercenaries, kicked and screamed at them so he could get back to the one who could allow him out of a rotting city. Dom thought she should just leave. Why wasn't she leaving?

"I'll do anything! I'll do anything you want!"

"Get rid of him," Bane answered simply, without feeling.

The man was still screaming and trying to get to Bane, causing a terrible scene. She could almost feel sorry for him.

She saw the movement in the shadows, a shadow itself slithering closer, ready to strike like a snake. It was the body of a man, a different man dressed all in black and nearing the group silently. Dom squinted.

Her blue eyes widened as she spotted the glint of metal from the dagger in his hand.

She looked to Bane, at the hysterical man who was trying desperately to get his attention. The shadow lifted his weapon.

_Setup. _

It was her first instinct. Maybe she could have saved the city. Maybe she could have saved millions of lives. She chose otherwise.

"Look out!" she screamed.

Bane instantly snapped to attention, grabbing his attacker's wrist before he could plunge the knife into his back. He twisted the bone, grabbed his neck and slammed him against the alley wall that caused more fractures. The alley then lit up with those tiny glints of metal. It was an ambush. It was a plan.

It was the police he'd waited for.

Bane lunged for the others before they could strike as his men did the same. Dom gasped as she watched the battle that had begun within a millisecond, and took a few steps back so she could get the hell out of there.

"You bitch! Do you know what you've _done?_"

One of the officers not involved in the fight grabbed her arm, his hand gripping his own knife with all the anger a man could muster. They had planned for this. They had counted on Bane coming to destroy them so they could take him out themselves. And now this _idiot_ had ruined everything.

"We could have killed him! We almost had him!"

Dom shrieked as he lifted the knife. With instincts guiding her now, she shoved him hard as his arm swung down. Crying out in pain as the blade sliced across her shoulder instead of into her heart, she tried to scramble away, batting at him because she could do nothing else.

This wasn't how the cops were supposed to behave.

The police officer grabbed her by her shoulders, and slammed her into the brick wall. More pain exploded in the back of her head, already making her feel nauseous, already causing her vision to go blurry. It blurred and blurred in front of her, until she couldn't see a thing at all. She let out a slow breath, felt her body drooping.

And then came the blackness.

The cop's fury was short-lived. Right after he pushed Dom, blood exploded from his chest as Barsad pulled the trigger of his gun. The cop fell to his knees, dying with his fallen officers. The plan hadn't worked. Gotham still belonged to Bane. And no one would know of the night they'd tried saving the city.

Bane placed his boot on the dead body of a brave cop and kicked, shoving him off to the side. Tonight had not been wasted after all. He'd come here to end what was left of the police, and in their pathetic attempt at ending him they'd been killed in the process.

A successful night, he'd say.

Dominique was now at his feet, blood seeping out through her clothes on her shoulder, her auburn hair a mess from a broken rubber band as she lie passed out on the dirty alley ground. He had no doubt that he could have stopped the police from killing him. Her cry had just made it quicker and easier.

Why had she warned him?

"We must report this to the Demon Head," Barsad said, kicking at another body.

Bane turned his back on her to leave. Someone would find her. Someone had to have heard the commotion and would come to check things out. The wind howled, the freezing wind that could suffocate a body and kill it. The streets were not safe at this time of night, he knew, and people were smart to stay indoors. Except, of course, for one quirky woman who had shouted when perhaps she should have stayed quiet.

Look out, she'd said. Look out.

Bane blew out a deep breath through the mask as he made his way back to her, clearly annoyed, and heaved her up from the ground.

"Sir?"

"I do not make a habit of being indebted to anyone." Bane walked over to Barsad, Dom's unconscious body in his arms. "That habit will not start tonight."

Bane dumped Dominique into Barsad's quick arms.

They would patch her up and then send her off, ready to face the day of reckoning like everyone else. And until then, she could go back to Lovesick and never see him again. Go back to her dancing and her siren's call.

Because Bane was sure he would never need her in the future.

**TBC**

**A/N: Sorry about the wait, darlings. Christmastime and Christmas activities really took up the hours. But now we can get back on track. I hope you all enjoyed the introduction to the new lady. Dominique Cross will be a lot of fun, you'll see. She's very different from Camille, so it'll be interesting to see how she reacts to Bane. Also, her initials are DC, as in Detective Comics. Yeah… Anyway, review for me, my wonderful loves. And thank you so much for all the great feedback from the first chapter. Let me know what you think. **


	3. It Was Once Said That Everything Burns

_**Part One: The Mercenary**_

**Chapter 3**

**It Was Once Said That Everything Burns**

Debts were not for him. Owing someone had always been out of the question. It wasn't how he ran things. He had always either done everything on his own, allowed Talia to help him because she was the only one who could, or had paid his dues in the quickest way that was possible. If someone gave him something he needed in certain situations he would reach into his pocket and pay them back right then and there. If someone showed him rare kindness, he would return it by leaving so they wouldn't have the misfortune of getting caught up with the complexities his life would bring. He wasn't above a trade.

But Bane would be damned if he would leave anything hanging over him like a rainy cloud.

He was annoyed; his entire crew could sense it and were very much aware of it in case they had to speak with him about something. They knew he was annoyed that now, because of an ambush by the remaining police and a distant cry that had possibly given them the advantage, they were now carting some woman from the fancy club along with them so that they could tend to her. Their leader was annoyed because of the facts, the fact that this was happening to begin with.

His men really hoped they didn't receive the brunt of that annoyance.

Just one more thing he had to do, Bane thought, stomping along through the lobby of the apartment sky rise that held no one else save for his men after they took it over for their own accommodations, his soldiers following behind him quietly. One more thing on his list. One more thing he had to be aware of. If that woman hadn't spoken up when she should have remained silent he wouldn't be carrying the burden of having to clean her up before he sent her back out into the cold. Maybe he was being ungrateful, but he could have easily stopped the police himself. Bane looked behind him, saw Barsad carrying the woman in a way that made her seem like she were a dead animal in his arms, his face contorted and uncomfortable like she would snap up and bite him at any second.

One more thing. It was always one more thing.

"Shall I bring her to the medics?" Barsad asked, and if it were possible, trying to hold the body in his arms out further than necessary.

"No. Put her in there," he answered, gesturing towards the suite he stayed in. Because of his health, he had all the medical tools required to patch her up. And she had called out to _him_, furthering the evidence that it was his job to do so. "Report to Talia. Bring her an extra blanket, as well."

"Yes, sir."

Barsad ventured inside and placed Dom's body on the couch close to the bed instead of the bed itself. The decision was made for many different reasons, one being that Bane would not appreciate blood oozing out onto the sheets he slept in. Knowing Bane would take it from there, and because he would rather be doing anything else than awkwardly holding an unconscious woman, he gave Bane a nod and quickly left to his duties, closing the two grand doors behind him. And feeling considerably better.

Bane stared at her, at this woman Dominique. His eyes fell to her chest, at the growing spot of blood coming through her trench coat near the shoulder. He sighed, a static wheeze through the mask.

And got to work.

Through the blackness she could see some light. Through the nausea she could feel some kind of relief. Her body awakened before her eyes opened, her senses feeling everything before her mind could question where exactly she was and why. With light gleaming through her closed eyelids, Dom refused to open them because she was sure that the intense pounding in her head would become even worse if she did so. The back of her head felt as if she'd been hit with a baseball bat, like someone had struck a home run and had left her with stars in her eyes as soon as the ball went flying. Her stomach was rolling, but oddly felt as if it were simmering down with every second that passed. And her shoulder…

_Ah, jeez. _

She opened her eyes then, squinting instantly as the bright light above her beamed like she was ten feet away from the sun. Her mind became flooded with memories then, swamping her and once again reminding her of the stupid decisions she made as a human being. Quite frankly, her mind yelled at her, she down right sucked as a human being. Lifting a hand with her good arm and placing it over her eyes so she wouldn't pass out again from the light, she wondered if maybe this time, she would actually agree with her mind.

The bastard.

She heard that same deep voice from the alley, causing her to forget the light and look right to the source. She winced at the pain, the pain in her head, her stomach and her shoulder as her blue eyes widened.

That was Bane over there, her mind registered, standing near a small table and looking at her wallet that he'd retrieved from her emptied purse, reading her personal information as if he had every right to. He'd removed the brown coat, keeping the chill away with a black long-sleeved shirt rolled up to his elbows, holding her wallet in one hand and a damp washcloth in the other. Drawing her brows together, she tried to lift herself so she could yell at him. Her head only whirled on her and her stabbed shoulder gave out, causing her to fall onto her back again.

"Dominique Cross," Bane muttered, reading her identification after he had some time to spare while he'd been tending to her. It had taken her an hour to regain consciousness. He looked over at her, somewhat perplexed. "It is not wise to make quick movements so early. You have suffered a minor concussion."

"Where the hell am I? What the hell happened to me?" She weakly looked down at herself, and then gasped when she saw that the entire sleeve and shoulder of her gray long-sleeved shirt had been cut right out. And clearly showing the dark red gash of her injury. "Oh, Jesus. That bastard _stabbed_ me."

Bane tossed her wallet carelessly back into the pile of junk he'd dumped out from her purse. He made his way over to her. "Don't move. You will restart the bleeding before I can administer your stitches."

She gaped at him, temporarily forgetting the entire situation. "_Stitches_? You're going to give me stitches?"

"I must. Although you were not impaled by the blade, it did slice your skin. If you wish to get an infection, I won't touch you."

"This is great. This is just _peachy_." Disregarding his warning, Dom slowly lifted herself so she could sit on the couch rather than lie on it. She let out a fast breath as her shoulder tingled painfully and her head exploded. She couldn't get stitches. What kind of high class dancer had stitches? And now her shirt was ripped and damp with her own blood. Not to mention the mercenary somewhat responsible for it all threatening her with the needle that would do the job. Her auburn hair clung to her sweaty face as she moped. Bane placed the washcloth onto the cut carefully to sop up any seeping blood. She flinched. "What are you doing?"

"I'm cleaning you," he replied blankly. "You are beginning to create another mess."

"What the hell's going on?" she demanded, glancing around and taking in her surroundings again.

"Calm yourself. You were cut during the battle with the police. I am merely trying to help you. If you would stop flinching I could continue to do so."

"What?" she asked desperately, having no choice but to remain still now that he was kneeling in front of her and pressing the washcloth forcefully onto her shoulder. "This isn't making sense. You don't make sense," she told him to his face, somewhat angrily.

"What a kind remark to say to the man who saved your life."

"I don't know what's going on. Why are you helping me?"

Bane sat on his knees in front of her because the kneeling was causing his back to ache. Feeling annoyance again because of the answer to her question, he kept his eyes on her injured shoulder. "Because you are a stupid woman. I did not need to be given a warning. But you warned me, so I am returning the favor."

A favor. She was here now because her mouth had opened and she'd yelled at him to duck from an incoming knife to the back. The police officer closest to her, in all his rage, had attacked her after she'd screwed up a plan that had possibly been put into motion weeks ago. A plan that could have saved the entire city. Wow, she thought, finally calming down and easing her body. She was pretty sure she'd just made the title of worst citizen ever.

Bane kept his eyes away from hers, reaching over to the little pile of tools he'd gathered, and picked up a needle.

Her eyes widened again and her jaw clenched. "Thanks for the help and all, but I don't think I need stitches. It hardly hurts. I'm sure it's just a scratch." She quickly cast her eyes back down to the gash. "A scratch that bleeds a lot."

He ignored her and threaded it. "You aren't feeling much pain because I have already injected you with a numbing agent while you were unconscious. It should be into full effect about now. This will be over quickly, as you don't need many. Now if you would kindly hold still…"

"Do you have medical credentials?"

He blinked. "No."

"Then I think maybe I should go to the hospital instead. I'm feeling very uncomfortable in…" Her eyes glanced all over herself until she found a suitable excuse. "In this ripped shirt with a man who is clearly not a medical professional." Her head was killing her. She didn't want to go to the hospital either, but it had to beat this. Anything had to beat this. What kind of mess had she gotten herself into this time?

"And would you like to wait a number of endless hours before you're seen? You and I both are aware of the fact that the hospitals are overrun. You will most certainly get that infection during the time it will take to even get through the doors in front of all the injured and hysterical. I am offering you instant relief. If you were a wise woman you would shut your mouth and allow me to sew you up. So," he growled, staring daggers at her. "Shut your mouth."

At the beginning of the night, she'd just been a harmless dancer, doing what she did so she could pay the bills like any other average American woman. The middle of the night had consisted of a very surreal encounter, one that had her dancing for Gotham's liberator as his eyes had no doubt scanned every inch of her. And now here she was, hurt with a nasty cut and a small concussion. This night had taken many crazy turns.

What was one more? She didn't have health insurance anyway.

Leaning back against the couch, she submitted and allowed the precious feeling of numbness in her arm get her through the stitches Bane would give her. Maybe she should have been thankful that he'd even thought to numb her, instead of just stitching her up with absolutely nothing but the concussion to make things worse. Bane leaned in closer, the giant mass of his body sending off heat onto her skin she could feel, and watched as he raised his hands so he could begin the treatment.

She turned her head away. She didn't like stuff like this. Stuff that should stay in hospitals and medical dramas.

Bane kept his eyes on her cut and the needle he would push through her tan skin to close it. Every now and then he would have to grab onto her back to hold her still when she would begin to flinch, reminding her that she was getting this done one way or another. And each time she complied, calming back down as her other hand would come up to brush away at her hair. As he worked he could see how the skin on her shoulder had taken a slightly different hue after being smeared with her blood. Certain areas had a copper tone, something that apparently happened when her golden skin had mixed with the red of blood. Pulling the needle through, he glanced at the side of her neck where a strand of auburn hair looked like a wave as it travelled down the middle of her chest.

He cursed himself for ever entering Lovesick in the first place.

"Why would you do such a thing?" he asked softly, needing a distraction.

"Do what?" she asked in return, glancing at some ugly painting on the wall of the very lavish penthouse apartment she'd found herself in instead of the stitching. "Save you?"

"You did not save me. But you did prevent… an alternate outcome. I would like to know why."

Dom knew she could sit here and try to figure out which answer would be the best one to give him. But because her head ached, she didn't feel like going through each and every one. There were so many to choose from, and even she didn't know which one would hold more truth than the others. She was quiet for a moment as he worked, then finally spoke. "I wasn't raised to live the life of fine lines, black and white, good and evil. My daddy…" She stopped and cleared her throat some when she spotted Bane's very soft grin given away by his eyes. "My father," she corrected, "taught me how to rely only on my first instincts, because you could never count on things like that to make decisions for you. Worrying about whether or not you're doing the _right_ thing is too much to take on. My first instinct was to shout at you. So I did."

His hand tugged at the string through her skin. "I'm not quite sure if that is a satisfying answer."

"I'm notorious for giving unsatisfying answers," she said blandly.

Bane cut the string, then began to disinfect everything once again. So a free spirit she was, his mind concluded. Taught by her father to do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. It could explain a lot about her, this mysterious woman who had suddenly shown up throughout his night. Or it simply made her more of a mystery. His eyes settled on her skin again, skin more sun kissed than the brown tone Talia's had taken from genetics. Skin that had sparkled like the scales of a mermaid's tail as she'd danced for him. His mouth opened before he could convince himself to remain silent. "I find it amusing that you would use your torn shirt as an excuse for me to stay clear of you. You were wearing much less just a few hours ago."

Dom shrugged, regretting the action from the ache in her head and the numbness of her shoulder. "That was just business, pal. Out here in the real world, the rules change."

His eyes trailed down her arm to her hand settled carelessly on her hip. "Just business," he repeated in a murmur.

What else would she consider _just business_? She didn't seem like she feared him since he'd given her no reason to while they chatted this way. Until he did give her a reason, he didn't think this woman would run away screaming for her life. She spoke to him in a way a woman never had before. She seemed fearless, maybe a little careless. The kind of person who didn't need to work for ruthless ambitions to get through life happily. And Talia had been right when she spoke of his needs. This woman Dominique was interesting to him. And she was very attractive. A woman with nothing to lose and only living for the surprising gains.

His eyes met hers as he thought about it. As he allowed himself to think about it.

"I may not live by the fine lines most people do, but if there's one I _do_ live by, it's the very _thick_ line of business and pleasure. Right now, these stitches aren't very pleasurable." She had to get out of here. Being near Bane had already cost her a concussion and an open wound. Who could say what would happen next? She wasn't a girl with unlimited resources, after all. "And besides, if I didn't save you from those cops something worse than being cut off from the world could've happened. Maybe somebody would blow us up after you keeled over. The way I figure it, keeping you breathing and in charge of whether or not we fry up is much better than you dead and unable to keep things nice and alive."

Bane stared at her eyes, her blue eyes, and studied her face. The eyebrows above those blue eyes were very faint in color, allowing the light above to highlight her face. The shape of that face was round, cheekbones popping out whenever she made an expression. His eyes dropped down to her lips, the wide mouth that apparently could sing if he'd wanted her to back at the club. He wondered what sound would ring out if she had.

Dom lifted a brow at his expression. Usually, she was used to that look. She saw it every work night as different men watched her the way a dog would watch a tasty bone. And never had it bothered her, because her line between business and pleasure _was _thick. But seeing the look on Bane now, a man who was very large and ran Gotham City completely, was a tad unnerving. She cast her eyes away, looked over.

And then screeched.

"What the f… Oh, shit! _Shit_!"

Bane's gaze snapped away. He watched as Dom reached for her trench coat that had been draped on the back of the couch after he'd pulled it off of her when she'd been unconscious. With a pained look on her face, she eyed the large stain of blood and jagged rip within the cloth.

"Those _assholes_! Look what that son of a bitch did to my coat. It's completely ruined."

He looked away from her again, focusing his attention on the bandages he would set against her stitches instead. He unwrapped one, then took her arm so he could place the soothing gauze gently over her injury. His work was done now.

Dom moaned. "This was Burberry. Do you know how much a Burberry trench coat costs? Bastards."

He took a pill bottle, shook out two pills before handing them to her.

She glanced at his face then as he reached for a bottle of water as well, her trench coat having to become a forgotten memory after its demise. She eyed the mask some, had a brief interest on what exactly he used it for. Some people thought he had it just because he looked more menacing with it on. Other people thought he was hiding some hideous deformity. Whatever the reason, she didn't really care. With pills resting in her open palm, Dom said, "You're going through a lot of trouble to help me. I should save people more often."

"You didn't save me."

She let out a little breathless laugh right before tossing her head back to down the pills. She sipped the water he handed to her. "I think maybe I did. Guess you don't like owing people anything, huh?"

"Trust me, as soon as you can stand without falling I will be happy to kick you out."

She laughed again, nodded. "Give a guy a good time and this is how he treats you. Hey, do me a favor after I leave, okay? Try not to blow me up anytime soon. I need to start saving now if I'm going to get a new trench coat."

Bane scooted back some. Of course she didn't know that she would die regardless of his feelings. This silly woman would burn in the fire with everyone else, including him. But she couldn't know something like that. No one could. Except for him and Talia. So he allowed her to feel the hope that could be so very despairing.

That was the plan, after all.

He looked at her again, and decided that destroying her would be somewhat of a waste.

"You are a very peculiar woman, Dominique."

There was that slight scowl again. Just like before when she was wearing nothing but sparkling lingerie. "Don't call me that. My name is Dom. I like it better."

"Your name is Dominique and that is what I shall call you."

"No one uses that name when they talk to me."

"Well, I will most certainly not refer to you as _Eve_. Was that your choice for a stage name?"

"Hey, if it weren't for the very first Eve, none of us would be here. Including you and me. So I would say it's an important name." She sat up a little more, took a deep breath as the pills began to work and her head eased up on the pounding throb. She had no idea what she was going to tell Auntie tomorrow night about the stitches. She supposed she would have to wear something lacy with long sleeves to hide them. The fight she would have with the woman who dressed her was already aggravating her. "Thank you for helping me. And you're welcome for saving you."

"You didn't save me," he repeated sternly, finding it hard to move away from her completely. He hated himself for staying put. But now her long hair was settling against her body, a body with as many flowing curves as a wave. "If you continue to live in a false reality I may have to injure you far worse than what you are now."

"Oh please," she muttered with a roll of her eyes. "You don't strike me as the kind of guy to kill just because he stubbed his toe. I don't think we're going to see each other again, and to be perfectly honest I hope to God we don't since you're a scary guy, but you'll always remember me. Little ol' Dom, out of the millions of people you have under your thumb." When she scooted forward a little on the couch, Bane popped up to a standing position like the military soldier he apparently was. "You want to know why? Because I helped you out when I should have let those guys give the knife to you. All those people out there? They're just your lackeys. And all those people out there?" She jerked her thumb towards the massive window that showed a dark and despairing Gotham City. "They all hate you. Knowing that, I'll stick in your mind. My father always told me that if you can get enough people to remember you, then you'll never truly die. Isn't that what you're doing now? You want people to remember you for this revolution?"

Bane only stared down at her. The world would always remember him. He'd placed his mark in history forever. Ever since he'd put on the mask, ever since he'd taken his place at Talia's side, he would be remembered. He didn't have to wonder if he would ever be forgotten. And when he finally did die, Talia would have someone ready to take their place.

He would never be forgotten.

"I've left my mark on you just as you've done to my city. So don't think you can dispose of me so easily." Her comment seemed playful, so Bane didn't take it as a threat. Dom flipped her hair back, took a deep breath and looked at the ground before glancing back up at him. "Mind helping a girl up?"

He should have left her in the alley. He should have had Barsad tend to her instead of wasting his time with blue eyes and eccentric logic. He didn't want to remember her because soon he would be just as dead as she would. She would be nothing, just like everyone else.

Bane reached forward very slowly, and took her outstretched hand almost hesitantly.

Dom swayed on her feet some, placed her good hand on her head to make sure it wasn't going to fall off. Looking up at him, she smiled. "Thanks."

He wasn't going to remember her. She was too strange, too flighty. She annoyed him. Bane looked her up and down, from the top of her auburn head down to her crusted bloody chest and finally resting on her legs. He had needs, his mind told him again. And his needs had to be met because his obligations to the plan were heavy on the shoulders. He wasn't going to remember her because this would be a one-time thing.

This silly woman. _Dominique_.

What would it be like…

"Excuse me."

Bane and Dom both looked over to the entrance of the grand suite. Dom blinked as she spotted a woman, someone she didn't recognize and certainly someone who wouldn't be seen at mercenary headquarters. But there she was, a pretty woman who looked like she ran the place and could go wherever she pleased. She had that air of authority on her, Dom could tell. She could almost smell it.

Bane only stared at Talia as his mask hissed softly.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," Talia drawled, still looking clean and soft after her shower earlier in the day. After her message from Barsad about the police's ambush, she thought it right to quietly return yet again to make sure everything was still running smoothly. Her duty as Demon Head. Dressed in something flowy since she despised her withered hostage's garb, she crossed the room like the wind to Bane. Eyeing the mysterious woman, she lifted her face and waited for him to lean down so she could kiss the mouthpiece of his mask, just as she always did on her arrival.

Dom suddenly felt very uncomfortable. It was definitely time for her to leave. "Um…" She watched as both of them glanced at her like they were waiting for something. Was she supposed to recognize this lady?

"She is quite a mess, isn't she, darling?" Talia lifted a brow as she glanced at Dom's stitches and her bloody clothes. Of course Barsad had mentioned to her of the woman who had warned them, and the injuries she'd sustained because of it. "Although I must say, I did have a different picture in my head when Barsad told me of the brave woman who dances. You are not at all what I imagined."

Dom could sense cattiness when she heard it. And she wasn't about to get snippy with Bane's girlfriend. Instead, she opted for a quiet getaway. "I need to go now. Concussion and all that… So, bye."

"Be sure to keep those stitches clean, sweetie," Talia cooed, placing a hand on her hip as Dom grabbed her shredded trench coat and slowly walked towards the doors. She was already cleared to exit the building without the guards stopping her.

Bane watched Dom as she got to the double doors. His plans for her would not come to fruition, after all. And he'd been telling the truth when he said he would rather spend his free time with Talia before another woman.

Dom looked back. And gave him another of her casual, friendly waves. A small hand gesture from a casual, friendly woman.

A very strange woman.

"Enjoy the rest of your liberation, Dominique Cross," he told her.

And then she was gone. Never to see again. And if he did, she would only be a burned corpse in the fire.

"She didn't recognize me," Talia mentioned, still watching the door. Eyeing it, more like. And oddly hoping the perky woman with the smiling blue eyes wouldn't walk through it again.

"I highly doubt she keeps track of current events in the business world."

She smiled, that strange feeling in her chest dissolving at Bane's words. That instant dislike for a woman who had spent time with Bane in a way that didn't involve pleasing him physically. "You're right, of course. It would be a wonder if that woman had ever picked up a book. She would not have complemented you, my love. And she is far too different from me."

"Are you to leave soon?" he asked, wanting to change the topic. He didn't like it when Talia spoke this way, comparing herself with other women. She was far greater than any other, and not upon their level.

"I will spend the next hour with you. I miss you when I have to go, my friend." She smiled up at him, softening his eyes. Wanting them only to look at her and no one else. Using women for release was one thing, Talia knew. But only she would hold his heart. "But soon we will be together, always in eternity."

Bane did what Talia asked of him all throughout the time it would take for the nuclear bomb to deteriorate. He led the revolution in the remaining months, executed those who needed to die sooner, and kept the hope thriving so that their deaths would feel worse. That when the fire truly consumed them, they would crumble into a pile of ash before drifting off with the wind. A destiny fulfilled and a life of pain finally over. Talia's plans were his purpose, Talia herself his life. He did all that she asked until the day of reckoning finally came. The same day the Bat would return, as well, to thwart him. He'd given Talia his body for combat, his mind for leadership. He'd given Talia his life because they had always been it for each other. No one else for either of them. No other home to return to.

Then the revolution was over, and Bane had somehow survived.

But not Talia. Talia was dead.

And ironically, she was the only one who had burned.

**TBC**

**A/N: Thank you so much for all the support! I know some of you miss Camille, but don't worry. I have a few more tricks up my sleeve. The revolution is over, so what could possibly be next? Tell me your thoughts. And for those who read **_**Amaranthine**_**, tell me, if you can remember, your favorite part. I like hearing you. And please review. They keep me writing, and thriving to give you quality. Which I hope I'm doing. Thanks again, my special darlings! **


	4. The Dawn of Humanity

_**Part One: The Mercenary **_

**Chapter 4**

**The Dawn of Humanity**

It was a hard thing to fail. Normal people were used to failure, he knew. With normal people, they would try their hand at something only for it to explode in their faces, or leave a very unsatisfying taste in their mouths. The taste of failure was something other people knew more than success, and would become oddly familiar with it over and over again. They would try, and they would fail. Try and try until that failure ultimately became a part of them until death. But it hardly stopped most of them. Try and fail. Try and fail.

Over and over again.

And Bane… was not used to this feeling at all.

He had failed in the past, of course. But oddly enough, his minor failures had always come with great successes. He had not been able to escape prison but Talia had, and that was all he'd ever wanted since the first moment he saw her. He had been excommunicated from the only home he'd ever known by his own mentor, but Talia had left with him and together they had built an army of willing soldiers. Every time, when something terrible would happen, something even greater would rise and right his life. He had never failed only to feel utter failure in the end.

Minor failures. Great successes.

_It was a hard thing to fail. _

Bane didn't like this feeling. He didn't like this taste.

His great and glorious revolution was over. Talia, his queen, was dead. His injuries had given him a broken body. The man who could not be broken.

_Talia was dead. _

Someone had shot him, he could remember that much. He'd never seen a face, since his eyes had been glued to the Batman's. All he could remember was a blast, and a greater pain far surpassing his own chronic condition that had bulldozed him over like a truck. The very next thing he remembered was waking up, attached to machines again and his chest wrapped up so tightly he could barely breathe. He hadn't known where he was, but he could make out a few familiar faces. And one of those faces had been Barsad, his second clutching his side from a bullet he'd sustained in those final moments of victory. Bane could also still feel the mask on his face and his medicine constantly pumping into his body. He'd heard one of the doctors that had been hired to tend to him say that it had been damaged, but had been surprisingly easy to fix. Barsad limped to his bedside, and regrettably told Bane everything when he'd still been left in the dark.

They were in the country on the far outskirts of Gotham, he'd said, staying with one of their contacts they kept there for these very purposes, a mansion of a house with a political leader who wanted to keep some unlikely friends if he ever needed them. The leader paid Bane a lot of money to keep his and his army's skills on reserve, and had also offered his home as a recuperating ground if it was ever called for. Barsad had told him that Selina Kyle had shot him with a canon of the Batman's, practically shattering his chest in the process. A lot of the men had been taken by the Gotham police, but many had escaped capture, and for these very reasons was why they also kept other men and women on reserve all across the globe. Barsad had told him that the Batman had saved the city by sacrificing himself to the bomb that should have killed them all. Gotham City was still alive and slowly rebuilding itself.

And as Bane rested on a hospital bed in an extra room within the mansion, his chest held together and trying to mend back into place, he knew in his gut what he would be told next. He knew, because he could sense it.

But that didn't mean he wanted to hear it.

"We failed," Barsad said, his face pale from his own injury, his muscle tone slightly depleted after the time it had already taken to heal this far. "The plan was no good."

Bane could see it in his second's face. His chest was broken, but his heart was feeling much worse. Barsad's expression was right there, telling him the next bit of information and trying to search for the best way to actually say it. He didn't want to hear it. Anything but that. Tell him he wasn't going to live instead. Tell him that he would die from these injuries. Tell him something like how he would never walk again.

_Anything else. _

Barsad frowned down at his leader, but Bane seemed like more than that. Barsad saw his friend, and felt sorrow for him. "She didn't make it. The Demon Head is gone."

_Anything else but that. _

Bane had prepared himself for Talia's demise a long time ago. He had spent what had felt like a lifetime with her, and knew that once the idea had manifested inside her mind, there was no way to stop it from carrying on. And he could understand her desire to burn Gotham, to break the man who had killed her father. The father she could only forgive after his death. He had understood her because no one understood her the way he could. If they had pursued a romance, then she would have been his soul mate. She was his pure love. A long time ago he had prepared himself that Talia was going to die for the plan. And he had learned to become tolerant of it.

The only problem was, was that he was supposed to have gone with her.

Goodbye, she had said to him. Goodbye, my friend.

_Talia. _

Barsad looked away as Bane placed his hands over his face.

_Anything else… but that. _

It was a hard thing to fail.

It was harder to grieve.

* * *

The great thing about the body was that it possessed the ability to heal itself. It could sweat out a fever, push any foreign object out from beneath the skin, and the bones could fuse back together with only some time and certain limitations. And once the body did what it was supposed to do, that life once lived could resume again. A damaged chest would not kill him. Broken ribs, a shattered collarbone, and a cracked sternum would not stop him from doing what he was meant to do. Bones fused back together. And his slowly were.

The heartache of Talia's death was much harder to heal from.

Bane's mask was fine, and the painkillers assisting his body helped some with the discomfort. But he knew that even though he was lucky he didn't have to feel the full extent of recovery, it didn't mean he could go about doing what he normally did every single day. Bane put in the work for his body to function the way it had before the blast of the canon. He took it easy when he had to be careful, he allowed the doctors to do all the necessary checkups, and he dutifully obeyed the rehabilitation process. In the outskirts of Gotham, in the country that was too big to be found and captured, Bane did everything he needed to do to make his body whole again. Or at least as whole as it could be since he'd placed the mask over his face. The body was made to heal itself.

The heart was a different matter entirely.

Weeks turned into months, and Bane could still feel a pain inside his chest, the place where Talia would live and breathe as his life. In his years, he'd seen countless parents lose their children, a pain that was said to be the greatest one of all. He'd seen spouses die, with the other following close behind because living life without the other was too much to bear. He'd seen it. He'd heard the cries of sorrow.

Talia was his pure love. His grief had to be much worse. Because how could a parent possibly love their child as much as Bane had loved Talia?

While enduring his grief, Bane didn't think it _was_ possible.

Barsad was healing, too. He'd taken a bullet to the meaty flesh of his side and had needed a good number of stitches, followed by more care when he'd sustained an infection from moving around too much. Bane, of course, had the worst injuries of all, but the time it was taking for their leader to heal didn't discourage the men in his army. Many were travelling the globe, contacting those who were on reserve and telling them that now was the time to answer the call. Bane wanted most of them to go through the training of the League of Shadows, and sent them to the mountains to begin.

And when the time was right, when he _could _get out of bed with only a minor wrapping of his chest and careful steps some more time later, Bane knew that League of Shadows business had to be discussed.

He needed to find Talia's heir, and put them in their rightful place.

Barsad, wearing baggy clothing and his beard growing too long for his face, came into Bane's room to give him an update on the matter.

"Ronan Asher is coming."

Bane, sitting on the edge of his bed, looked down at the white bindings of his chest. His right arm was still in a sling to help with his collarbone, and the rest of his braces had been carefully put on his body with the assistance of the doctors that cared for him. Because while he didn't feel much of the healing of his bones, the rest of his body's problems were still a big issue. "Ronan Asher. Then we will be discussing important politics if he is visiting."

"The last person he spoke to was Talia when she became Demon Head. He never shows his face for anything else."

Ronan Asher was one of the elders of the League of Shadows. It was said that he had been alive to serve the Demon Head even before Ra's al Ghul, and had been one of his closest advisors. Since then, Asher was in charge of the main politics of the League, securing the will of the current Demon Head and doing what needed to be done to keep the group going. He had gotten in touch with certain individuals when he'd heard of the Demon Head's death in Gotham City, and had contacted everyone down to Barsad so that he may speak to Bane, Talia al Ghul's right hand. The League of Shadows would rest for no one, he'd said to Barsad. It was time to discuss business.

"Did she tell you who she named?" Barsad asked.

Bane's hand inside the sling clenched and released repeatedly. "She didn't. But I never asked her. I assumed she'd handled it." He remembered how he never felt the need to ask her such a thing. He'd always trusted Talia, trusted her because she'd always taken care of everything for the both of them after her father had excommunicated him. Bane drew his brows together. He did not like this grief at all.

Barsad didn't need to see his face to know how he was feeling. "Are you going to continue with the League, now that she's gone?"

He hadn't even thought of that. Bane had believed that his time would end with Talia's in Gotham. He had never needed to make any plans for himself beyond that. Now that the question was asked, Bane wasn't sure he had an answer. So he remained silent.

"I would follow you," Barsad muttered, turning his back to Bane even as he said the words. "Whether you leave or stay, it would be hard to separate. I've grown used to you."

Maybe he could live without Talia. And maybe he couldn't. Bane didn't know that answer either, and not knowing wasn't something he cared for. But he missed her. He missed her like he would miss breathing if he couldn't anymore.

"We will see what the future holds for us when Asher arrives."

* * *

Ronan Asher was a confusing man to Bane. He was so many things all rolled into one old man that Bane was never sure which direction to take with him. He was half Irish, half Israeli, but had taken more towards the Middle Eastern part of him when it came to his looks and accent since it was said that he lived full time in Israel. When asked in the past why a Middle Eastern man had such an Irish first name, Asher had always responded saying his father had had a fancy for a flavorful woman with dazzling red hair. Well into his seventies now, people were still confused by it.

Asher had joined the League of Shadows when he'd barely been into his twenties. Since then he'd fought his fair share of battles, cleansed a good portion of the earth only for it to be polluted again some years later, and had seen everything one man could see in a lifetime. One of the only surviving elders left, Ronan handled everything now when it came to the politics of the forbidden group.

The only way out of the League of Shadows for him now would be death.

He was an old man, so it had taken some time for him to travel from Israel to North America. But when he finally did arrive, Bane could tell that he was not happy with how League business had turned out. Until the new heir was named Bane was the one to speak to, and because he was so injured Asher had to come to him.

The elder liked to think it kept everyone on their toes.

In the lavish dining room of the mansion so graciously given to them for the time being, Bane sat and watched as Asher hobbled over with his cane as one man in his large group of personal security that had traveled with him pulled out a chair for him to sit. His hair was white and thin, his skin brown and wrinkled. But in his eyes, a faded color now from his age, anyone could see that he had the same intensity in his gaze as everyone else in the League. Bane had to respect him for surviving this long, because Bane knew that if the plan had worked then he most certainly would not have seen seventy.

Very, very few of them did.

"What is it about Gotham?" Asher asked as he sat down carefully, coughing some from a lifetime of cigars. He waved his protection away to stand near. "Please tell me what it is about Gotham City that has not one, but two of the League's leaders perishing and failing in their plan?"

Barsad was standing on guard a few feet behind Bane, watching carefully. Fisting his hand in his sling, Bane answered, "Their security was a little difficult to deal with."

"Ah, yes! The Batman." Asher nodded some in confirmation. "I hear he is dead now."

Bane didn't like casual conversation with higher ups. It made him uncomfortable. "If the new heir is to try again to destroy Gotham, then they must still be on high alert. It would be easy to replace him."

Asher held up a withered old hand. "Gotham is finished. With the way things are it will not be long until it destroys itself. The League's ties there are over. We don't want to sacrifice more leaders to an apparently hopeless cause."

"Gotham is full of terrible people who deserve to die."

"And that is your heart speaking, not your head. I know of you, Bane. I know that you are not supposed to be sitting at this table with me right now."

When Talia had become Demon Head, he had simply returned with her. He'd been excommunicated and yet he was suddenly placed into leadership as her right hand. No one else ever mentioned that he no longer had a place with the League. No one had ever questioned Talia's judgment. But if it were being questioned now, by this elder who outranked him, then Bane would have no choice but to accept the consequences. "Then I will leave," he answered simply, and finding a little bitterness in his voice.

Asher sensed it too, and smiled. "It is fortunate for you that you were Talia al Ghul's right hand. Second in command. No one else save for me would have the authority to remove you from your place. But being the right hand to the Demon Head does not secure your place here. Being the right hand does _not_ make you Demon Head. And to continue with the League of Shadows after excommunication with no one to protect you now is punishable by death. You were _removed_, Bane. And yet here you are."

Bane looked away then, his face holding no expression and his body refusing to tense up. He had known the rules before assisting Talia with her leadership. He had known that he could be in serious trouble for returning when he had been cast aside and unwanted. But Talia had never even had to think about what it would mean for them if she were to bring him along with her once she became queen. There had never been a Talia without Bane, just as there had never been a Bane without Talia.

But now there was, and it seemed that everything was falling to pieces around him now that she was gone.

"Bane has always loyally served the League. It was not his fault the Demon Head brought him along." Barsad spoke up, knowing that Bane was in a confused place right now in his grief. "It was Talia's decision, not his."

"Yes," Asher muttered, looking at Barsad. He could have dismissed him, but he allowed for him to stay. It was always fortunate to have other witnesses. "Talia al Ghul has made quite a few decisions."

"If I am to be punished then I wish for it to be sooner rather than later. Make your ruling, but the entire reason for your coming here was not to sentence me. If you desire more assistance, Barsad will help you find the new heir."

Asher nodded again, placing one hand on top of his cane as his other reached into his pocket to pull out a cigar. After his head of security lit it, he puffed a few times before continuing. "Talia al Ghul has perished. She named her heir some time ago." Asher lifted his eyes, met Bane's. "She named you."

And with those words, everyone was silent. The world could have stopped, the sky could have closed, and maybe no one would have paid any attention to it. Bane drew his brows together as his breathing stopped in his amazement, and only when his body started to burn from the lack of the painkillers travelling through his body with the halt of that breath did he finally take a deep one. Asher continued to puff even through the raspy coughs trying to break through his chest, casually inhaling his cigar as if he had all the time to enjoy it. Already it seemed as if everything had changed, even within these few seconds. And already there seemed to be a billion questions.

"Me," Bane muttered, staring at Asher, at the man who could answer those billion questions even though the other man seemed to be busy with his smoking. "Me."

"Congratulations. I suppose those are the correct words, yeah? Although I would never put myself in a position where it would be possible to be handed that title."

Talia had named him. After all the months of planning Gotham's demise, all the time knowing they would not survive it, Talia had chosen him. And Bane didn't know if he should be thankful or furious.

"But I was excommunicated," he murmured, still staring at the old man even though the gaze was no longer being returned.

Asher shrugged. "It is simple enough to get things done. She reinstated you once she took the title after her father's death. She never told you, I see."

Why wouldn't she have discussed this with him? Why would she do something like this? And why had he never asked her of her plans? "I don't understand. Talia and I were not to survive the revolution. Why would she name a dead man?"

"I'm not sure I want to take on the challenge of trying to understand a woman's mind. For a long time now you have been the heir to the League of Shadows. Of course we would've had to have you terminated a long time ago if she _hadn't _reinstated you, for the protection of our group. But she did. Talia al Ghul is dead. And that makes you, Bane, the new Demon Head. The League is yours. There are, of course, a few ground rules I must discuss with you."

Bane looked away then, and tried with all his strength to figure out Talia's mindset. She named him as her heir even though he was going to die for the plan. She had secured the future of the League with someone who shouldn't even be alive right now. Who made those kinds of decisions? Why on earth would she do it? Talia had always told him that she would make him great, that he would have the authority he should have been given after an excommunication that never should have happened. And she had always kept that promise. It seemed now she had given him the greatest place of all.

Was he thankful or furious? Bane didn't know.

"As you know," Asher began, deciding to continue the conversation whether or not Bane seemed a part of it anymore. He wanted to get out of this country as quickly as possible. "In case something should happen to you, you, too, would need an heir. The League must continue regardless if you are still alive or not. Ra's al Ghul named his child. If you are willing to do the same, then wonderful."

He was the Demon Head, Bane repeated in his mind carefully. He was the Demon Head. He let the thought float around in his head some, trying to accept it then and there. Because he was pretty sure that once named, there was no way out of it.

So he came to terms with it as best as he could for right now.

Bane looked at Asher again, and decided to conduct the business so he could deal with the surprise by himself. "I have no children."

"Then I suggest you remedy that rather quickly, Bane. Every man wants their legacy to stay within the family, do they not?"

Bane blinked at the old man. Was that what Talia was doing when she named him? Maybe she thought he would somehow survive. Maybe she was just trying to keep the League in the family. "A blood heir."

Asher nodded, grunting some when he stood slowly. "That's right. Keep the League in your blood and you will be immortal." He looked down at Bane's body, nodding some in an odd approval at the mass of him even with the bandages. "You may be built like an ox, but from the events that took place in Gotham City, it seems, Mr. Bane, that immortal you are not. You can die just like the rest of us. It's as easy for you as getting shot."

Bane's eyes widened.

And came to the conclusion… that this old man was very right.

Asher looked up at Barsad, nodded towards him. "This one your right hand?"

Bane was too lost in thought to have heard him. His mind was now running a mile a minute, thinking only of the blast that had injured him, that had caused him to fail. Even the very knowledge of his new title had taken a backseat to the current center of his problems. And only when Asher tapped the top of his cane onto the table did Bane get snapped back to reality. He looked at the old man as if he'd just entered the room.

"We run a sophisticated business, in a way," Asher said, itching to get back on his plane. "The Demon Head always needs a right hand, as you well know. Is the South African yours?"

He had been Talia's right hand because no one had been closer to her than him. Now that she was gone, Bane had no one else to rely on except for Barsad. He sensed Barsad standing in his place behind him, and then nodded.

"Splendid. I trust you know how to run the League since you've done a fantastic job leading your army. Congratulations once again, Bane. And I expect to hear from you soon so that you may tell me who will take your place if you happen to die in your next accident. You have been quite lucky so far." Asher gave him another grin because he felt he had to, and then cast one last glance at Barsad, who remained motionless and silent. "You are in desperate need of a shave, my boy."

Ronan Asher left then, with his vast security tailing behind him.

With only Bane and Barsad remaining in the dining room, each of them were left still a little disbelieving.

"You are the Demon Head," Barsad said lowly.

"I am." Bane thought of Talia. He thought of her pretty face, of their years together. Of the life they had lived for each other. Now, it seemed, she had given him a new life that maybe he didn't know what to do with. One he didn't know if he could survive.

"And I… can die so very easily."

* * *

Alone in his room now, Bane sat on the edge of the bed and looked out of the window that was open to let in the fresh air outside. The sun was bright, something he thought he hadn't seen in a long time after his months in cloudy Gotham and then secluded to his dark room for recovery. After the outside became boring to look at, Bane turned his head and scanned his small room. A room he had been staying in so that he could heal.

It oddly looked just like the room he'd been kept in after he'd been retrieved from the pit by Ra's al Ghul. The walls, the bed, and the floors were different, of course. But what filled the room was all the same. Machines to keep him alive right after his chest had been broken from the canon, medicine scattered everywhere, various casts and harnesses and other braces to fit onto his body so that he could be comfortable. It was all here. All right here just like before because he had survived not one horrific accident, but two now.

He didn't know if he had another recovery in him. He didn't know if he would be lucky a third time.

What if there _was_ a third time?

Bane looked away from the machines, and focused on nothing but his own thoughts instead. He wasn't a stupid man, he knew. Bane had always known there was a time coming when he would die. It was part of the condition. But he had always thought it would be on his own time. If he was going into a battle he could very well lose then so be it. If he was going to sacrifice himself so that Talia could escape from hell then that was that. And if he was going to give his life to a cause for true justice, then that was what he was going to do. Everything would be his decision, his choosing. It wasn't possible that he could die any other way because he had always been unstoppable. He was greater than any man, smarter than any opponent. How could he die if it _wasn't_ his own decision?

But he could die, Bane told himself. And then suddenly he could feel every bandage, every scar, every healing bone in his body. He could die quickly and painfully. He could die in the blink of an eye.

He was… human.

Just an ordinary human who could bleed like everyone else.

Bane felt something cave in his chest then, followed by a falling feeling he couldn't seem to stop. He didn't want to think he was having some kind of nervous breakdown, because he had never experienced something like that before. But maybe this was the closest to that he could get. He could die, his mind told him again. He could die from something as simple as getting shot, and not by something glorious. Someone could easily kill him in his sleep, a lone man instead of an army. Something foolish could happen to him such as walking out of the door, instead of in war. He wasn't as great as he thought he was. He wasn't as unstoppable.

He had the scars to prove it.

And now he was the Demon Head. The highest position he knew of. Talia had trusted that position to him, even though it may have been an unwise one at the time. And Bane suddenly found that he wanted the title. He wanted to head the League of Shadows, because he knew he had never been given the chance after he'd been cast out. He would take the title and do great things with it. And he would make sure that nothing could kill him so that he could continue to do so for a very long time to come.

And, Bane decided, his head and his heart finally coming out of grief for Talia and right into focus, he would keep the League of Shadows forever.

Ra's al Ghul hadn't wanted him around. Bane would repay him for that now by making sure that his legacy was kept in his _own _family. A blood heir.

He would have one.

Barsad came into the room then, seeing Bane sitting on his bed in nothing but a pair of pants and his white bandages and braces wrapped around his body, his arm in a sling. Suddenly the both of them had been thrust into new positions, into _great_ positions. And because those positions had just been assigned, Barsad knew that there was a lot of work to do. He scratched at his beard as Bane began to speak.

"Do you have any children, Barsad?"

The question caught him a little off guard. Bane never asked him these kinds of things. Personal things. "No, sir. I did have a wife some time ago, but she never gave me a child."

Bane tried to imagine Barsad married. He couldn't picture it, his second had a quiet nature about him. Not to mention a keen ability with a sniper to shoot a man's head clean off from long distances. "And do you regret not conceiving with your wife?"

"No. I no longer have a wife so I would think it would be difficult for me to continue with my work if I did become a father."

Bane looked out the window again and rolled that word around in his head. _Father_. It was such a strange word to him, especially since he'd never had one of his own, not one who he knew. And Bane had always assumed he would never have children either, also considering his work. But now that he was Demon Head things seemed different. Now it seemed like it mattered. Now it seemed… important.

_A blood heir. _

"Talia has given me the League of Shadows, Barsad. I want it to stay in my family. But right now I have no family." That word, too, was very foreign. But not for long. Bane would have a legacy. A great one. And it would forever be passed down his line. "I think it is time to fix that."

Barsad stared at Bane's back. He'd heard Asher loud and clear, as well. But he didn't think Bane would take him seriously. "I'm sorry?"

"A child," Bane murmured, and the more he thought about it, the more he liked it. Someone to teach, someone to mold. Someone to take over for him after he was gone. A child of his own blood and not Ra's al Ghul's. A legacy.

"You're going to have a child? With who? Talia is dead."

Bane sighed then. If he and Talia knew they were going to die for the plan, then maybe they should have discussed this together instead of separately. But there was no room for regrets now. "Talia and I had one night that was a mistake, but perhaps we should have used that night more effectively. And you're right, Talia is dead." Bane stood then, trying not to groan from the pain shooting up his back. Just another reminder that he was hurt, and could die. Just like her. "So I will have to find someone else."

"You could adopt a child," Barsad offered. He didn't know what it was going to take to make the other option happen, but he knew it would be tricky.

Bane shook his head. "I want my own child. My own blood. It's possible."

"But, sir… Who would be willing? Who would we find?"

"Someone perfect," Bane answered lowly, skimming through a list of requirements. If he was going to procreate then he wanted only the best for his offspring. And then, inspiration came. "We will go back to Gotham City."

Now the idea seemed even more outrageous. Barsad was already dreading it. "Gotham City. Do you have any idea how wanted you are in Gotham City?"

Bane looked back at Barsad, eyeing him. "Gotham believes I am dead. The League of Shadows has forsaken it, but I think I can get one last chance to cause it misery. What better way to continue my line than with a Gothamite woman? Bruce would not approve," he muttered to himself. And knew that the Batman would roll around in his watery grave to know it. "There is much to do. I need to finish healing," he continued, glancing down at his bandages and the sling that held his arm. "Then we must travel to South Asia to secure more business with the League. Afterwards, we will return to Gotham."

Barsad shook his head slowly. He knew Bane. He knew there would be no convincing him otherwise. So all he could do was simply follow orders. He muttered a curse under his breath in Arabic. "It is a dangerous road you walk. Gotham women are insane."

Bane smiled. "It will make things more interesting, then."

* * *

_I think one of the things people want most in the world is to be on the mind of another person. But not just any person. Someone they find special. Someone who means something to them. Maybe even, someone who means the world. I often wonder who that very person is for some. _

_I don't know anyone else, except for the two that I watch. And they are constantly on my mind. All I do is think about them. All I want is to touch them, just to see what they'll feel like. I know what goes on in their minds, and for a while it felt like nothing but going to sleep. Just a distant voice, thoughts that repeat and repeat and repeat. They are constantly on my mind. _

_Perhaps those two mean the world to me. _

_But now I feel different. Now is doesn't seem like white noise anymore, the thoughts inside the mind of the one I watch the most. The man with that extraordinary heartbeat. Now I feel like I'm almost glistening. I don't know what I look like, but it feels close to a smile. He thinks of something other than the blossoming innocence that had been destroyed a long time ago. He has pushed that thought aside… and is thinking of someone else. He is thinking of me._

_Is this what it's like to be on someone's mind? _

_I don't know if I'm smiling but I'm pretty sure I am. And the feeling is wonderful. He thinks of me. He doesn't know me, as I barely know myself. But there I am, this little thought in his head that will become something else entirely. It feels like glistening. It feels like glowing. _

_It feels like… everything. _

_One thing people want most is to be on another person's mind. That special someone. That someone who means the world. _

_And there I am, right in his head. _

_It is just as nice as it seemed. And what I want most feels just a little bit closer than before. Not within reach, but off in the distance. A tiny speck of happiness that I can barely see but not quite grasp yet._

_All I want is a heartbeat. _

_He's going to get me one. _

**TBC**

**A/N: Oh my word, you all are just so wonderful. My lovely reviewers, I wish I could kiss you. Something I'm deciding on is creating a Tumblr, a place where we can chat about the stories, look at great Batman stuff, and where I can answer questions. What do you think? Thank you for the reviews as always, my loves. **


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